


Wünsch dir was

by MinervaMcGonagall



Series: Life & Truths of Amelia Bones [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death, F/M, Funeral, Memory, Remembrance, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28205838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinervaMcGonagall/pseuds/MinervaMcGonagall
Summary: Amelia Bones' funeral, attended by Minerva McGonagall, Rufus Scrimgeour and a memory. Written years ago. Inspired by Genetikk's song "Wünsch dir was."
Relationships: Amelia Bones/Rufus Scrimgeour
Series: Life & Truths of Amelia Bones [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080353
Kudos: 1





	Wünsch dir was

**Author's Note:**

> I can't remember exactly in which year I wrote this yet. Ever since then, I've decided the memory part is a bit too cheesy and in reality it wouldn't happen like that - in my opinion (hence was hesitant to put it up, and just rediscovered it today and thought 'fuck it, this ship can use more material'. Or maybe it would happen like that? Form your own opinion, and hopefully enjoy this story about this rare af ship. :) <3

As Minerva stepped in front of Amelia’s coffin, seeing her still body lying there, all dressed up like a human exhibition, she fought hard to suppress tears. Amelia had been much more than a body, and now that the important part of her – her laugh, the light in her navy blue eyes – was gone, the Professor was suddenly painfully aware of how her friend would be only one of many to die. One of many bodies. One of many names in the papers. (She bitterly remembered how the First War had started, exactly like this. She shuddered internally.) It was all too calculated, too objective for the force that had once been Amelia Bones.

Most had only known her as Madam Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Even then it was a known fact that she was always fair and just in trials, like a true Hufflepuff – she had made a name for herself, that Minerva knew.

Then there were some who knew– had known her on a far more friendly basis, like Rufus Scrimgeour, whom Minerva had seen sitting just a few rows in front of her, holding a handkerchief in his fist but never using it. She had always suspected there had been more between the two of them than they had let on, but had never mentioned it. Imagine the embarrassment she would have had to face had her suspicions proven to be false– But still. She doubted anyone who was not family had ever been closer to Amelia than Rufus. Minerva hadn’t seen much, since Hogwarts took most of her time during the year, but what she had seen was enough for her to take note of it.

But Amelia was gone now, and present had become past.

* * *

_“I don’t know how we got down here. Not exactly.”_

_Rufus chuckled lightly at her words. They were lying next to each other on the snowy ground, looking at the black sky. A black sky full of stars._

_“Me neither, but I remember every detail of it,” he responded, tilting his head slightly to his left to look at Amelia. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her hands were folded on her stomach, and her visible breath came out in short intervals as she gave a short laugh.  
_

_“That doesn’t make any sense, Rufus.”  
_

_“To me it does.”  
_

_“Yes, that’s because you’re impossible.”  
_

_“Your bad influence, I gather.”  
_

_Something immensely cold suddenly landed on his face, and after a moment he curtly rubbed the masses of snow off his face._

_“And what was that for?” he asked with shivering lips.  
_

_“That one was fair repayment for what you did atop the hill earlier. I do remember after all,” she answered slyly, and looked into his yellowish eyes, in an almost challenging way. It was true – he indeed had initiated their snowball fight (in a hill next to a secluded forest, mind), something rather uncharacteristic for him. (Most people would label him as stoic, stiff, correct, after all.) But he hadn’t lied earlier – Amelia brought out the impossible in him. He wondered if it was the same to her.  
_

_He shuffled closer to her, tightening his coat around his body. Rufus saw her turning to him, feeling his mouth go dry. This was the first time he had seen her navy blue eyes this up, and they were what people would ridiculously call “twinkling.” Though they were literally lying in snow, there was some warmth in his body right now. Both their eyes fluttered shut. The next moment her lips were on his._

_They tasted like cherry._

_He had expected her lips to be gentle and smooth, yet they were rough and cold, and he relished every moment of it. One of Amelia’s gloved hands slowly found its way to the back of his neck, grabbing it. She pressed his face closer to her, making him tilt his head. When he opened his lips for more, her breath going deep into his lungs was hot and frightening, and feeling her sigh into his mouth was close to heaven. Rufus slid his right arm onto her back, hugging her to him. With the cashmere of her grey coat pressed against his own clothes, he wasn’t quite able to feel the heat of her body, yet he may have perceived a quickened heartbeat, had he not been busy enjoying the feel of Amelia’s tongue gliding against his teeth._

_Silly. Both of them were usually rational, serious individuals. Both had the reputation of being stoic (more or less) and calm, him even cold – no less than what high-ranked Ministry workers had to be, in his opinion. And yet. What they were doing here – lying in the snow and cuddling and kissing like as young people were wont to do – could be considered scandalous by some standards, and he didn’t care. Much. Not right now anyway. Amelia, especially this moment they shared, gave him a strange feeling, which he’d already decided he liked. It was special in a way that had him certain he wouldn’t experience it again so soon._

_He made an internal sound of protest as she pulled her lips from his._

* * *

As Rufus stepped in front of Amelia’s coffin, his hands became fists, clutching the handkerchief between his fingers tightly. He’d never imagined it would happen like this. Her dying as one of the first of Voldemort’s victims in this war. What was utterly wrong, and yet the way it was, was that her body served as a signal that the maddest man of the Wizarding World wasn’t dead. She hadn’t been supposed to die.

(The knowledge that she had put up a fight – a great one, if indeed only You-Know-Who had been able to bring her down – didn’t make it all any better.)

The future would mostly treat her name as a statistic, he thought. Future children would only know the name of Amelia Bones, not the person and strength of character behind it. If her name would be mentioned at all, if You-Know-Who wouldn’t succeed for good this time–

 _No._ Rufus had promised himself that Amelia’s death wasn’t in vain, that night before the funeral, as he was sitting on the floor of his bathroom, face red and eyes puffy, too tired to move an inch of his body. He still had been in suit at that time, having come fresh, or not so fresh, from work, and his bed had been left untouched. Now his neck was stiff from sleeping with his head against the bathtub.

In the meantime, his knuckles had turned white. It was as if his mourning for Amelia drained him of his blood.

* * *

As Rufus looked at Amelia – what had remained on Earth of her –, he didn’t really care how long he had already stood in front of her coffin, holding up the mass of witches and wizards behind him. He saw the connection of it all now – she lay just the way she had lain in the snow back then, her eyes were closed, her hands lay folded upon her stomach. Her skin was almost as white as the snowflakes they had seen falling, mixed with a faint green. The only thing missing was her breath.

* * *

_Make a wish, Rufus._

You know what I’d wish for now, Madam Bones.


End file.
